Ars
by darkergrey
Summary: Dean desperately searches a way to cure Sam, but this time, Cas, still dealing with the aftermath of his decisions, is more a burden than a help. All their hope lies on Kevin & the angel tablet and on finding the painter, a lost servant of God. Charlie offers her help to their chase, but with Abaddon ruling hell and a half-mad Crowley on their heels, the odds aren't in their favour
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, of course. _

_Rating: T, might change to M_

_Summary: Dean desperately searches a way to cure Sam, but this time, Castiel, still dealing with the aftermath of his decisions, is more a burden than a help. While Kevin tries to figure out the angel table, Abaddon takes over hell and Crowley, half-cured and half-mad, is set up on the idea to reopen purgatory and regain his strengths to defeat her. As the brothers find out there hope may last on the painter, a loyal servant of the lord, they race time to save Sam. But though the queen of Mondoor joins in for the chase, it seems as if the painter has fallen from the face of the earth...  
_

**Ars**

"_A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light." _

_(Leonardo Da Vinci)  
_

**Chapter One: Angels, demon, hunters, painter **

_Hunters_

The 67 Chevrolet impala drove fast through the night. Dean's eyes travelled between the street and his brother, whose body was shaking terribly with pain. Crowley was still in the church, chained to the chair, but Dean didn't bother about him right now. Right now, he didn't bother about anything, not even about angels falling out of the sky. Why would he, after all? They had never been on their side. In fact, most of them had been worse than demons, playing them like puppets on the strings, using them for their intentions. And the one angel he trusted, despite all his failures, had never, not once, really trusted him. No, he had always put heaven first, though they had used him just the same, though they had hunted him, broken him just as they had pleased.

"Dean", Sam forced out and ripped him out of his thoughts.

"It's gonna be alright, Sammy", he replied, without looking at him. "We will fix this."

"Dean", his brother repeated. "How can angels fall out of heaven?"

Finally, Dean looked at him. "That's not important right now. We gotta get back to the bunker and find a way to help you."

"Is it because I stopped? Is this my fault?"

"Of course not!" Dean said sharply and added. "It was Metatron."

"Metatron?" Sam asked irritated.

"Yeah. The bitch never wanted to fix heaven. He shut it down. Closed the gates. Expelled all angels."

"But how…"

"I don't know! It had something to do with the trials he had Cas do for him, but…"

"Is he alive?" Sam asked.

"Who? Cas? Don't know. And I tell you what, right now, I don't give a damn if he is."

"We have to find him", Sam said.

Dean shook his head. "No."

"Dean…"

"I said no!" he shouted furiously. "If he had listened to Naomi, if he had listened to me, just for once, none of this would have happened!"

"He just wanted to do the right thing…"

"Yeah, he always just wants to do the right thing, but guess what? He always does exactly the opposite. No, I'm through with that. I'm through with cleaning up his messes", he replied sharply.

"You always clean up my messes", Sam said quietly.

"That's different."

Sam shook his head. "It's not."

Dean didn't reply. He hit the gas and the impala accelerated. It was different. Sam was his brother. No matter how often he had betrayed him, no matter how often he had let him down, he was family. Cas instead was just one arrogant angel, a douchebag, a pain in the ass…

"Damn it!" Dean swore and grabbed his phone.

* * *

_Angels_

Castiel watched his brothers and sisters fall from the sky in shock and disbelief. This was impossible. Metatron couldn't betray them. He was the scribe of God, he was destined to help them understand _his_ commandments...

And yet, he found himself somewhere in the woods, without his wings, without his powers, without his grace. And with the blood of an innocent on his hands. With the blood of all his sisters and brothers on his hands who now probably stumbled over the earth, without a clue what had happened, why they suddenly fell so small, so weak.

His vessel capitulated under the sudden realization of what he had done and he fell down to the ground.

All he had wanted was to save heaven. Rebuild it. He would have done everything, he would have undergone every punishment, he would have died for the cause.

Now, it was all lost. The gates of heaven were closed. The demons were now the most powerful creatures in the universe and they would take the chance to burn the whole world down.

And it was all his fault. He had once again trusted the wrong person, he had once again rather believed in heaven's servant than in Sam and Dean.

Sam and Dean, who had always been there to help him out, who had fought his fight even after all he had done to them.

He had sent them all on a road to perdition and there was nothing left he could do. Nothing, but surrender.

All of a sudden, the phone in his coat pocket began to ring, but he did not even bother to look at it. His fight was over.

* * *

_Demons_

Minutes after the Winchesters had disappeared, Abaddon returned to the church. Crowley raised his head as she walked back in through the door, in a new vessel, still the old bitch.

She walked towards him slowly, teasing him with every step she made closer to him.

"Well, well, well", she snarled as she had reached him. "It appears none of your subjects came to your rescue, your highness. I guess they did not appreciate your… politics."

Crowley looked up at her and wanted to reply something equally sarcastic, but the words were stuck in his throat. Surprise ran over his face as he realized he was too afraid to speak. Fear was not an emotion he knew, fear did not exist in his system, fear was… human.

"Not very talkative now, are you?" Abaddon asked and leaned towards him.

Crowley felt how his nerves began to shake and tried everything to regain control, as Abaddon suddenly laughed out.

"What is it, Crowley? Are you afraid?" she asked amused and studied him closer.

"Piss off, you little bitch", he finally managed to force out, but it did not sound calm at all. In fact, his voice sounded high-pitched, even hysterical.

"Now, this is quite interesting", Abaddon said and walked around him. "The boy has gotten very far with the procedure, has he?"

Crowley remained silent. Sweat covered his forehead as Abaddon sat down on the wooden desk and eyed him closely.

He wanted to look at her, wanted to nail her down with his eyes, but his body refused his orders. Abaddon was right. Sam's blood had evoked the little bit of humanity he still remembered. That was bad. That was really, really bad.

"What a pity", she finally said. "Actually, I came here to smack you, rip you apart and use you as a warning. But well, it seems you are no danger to me anymore. In fact, you are no danger to anyone in your state."

She rose and once more, stepped in front of him, her expression thoughtful.

"You know what?" she continued. "I think I will let you continue this humble existence. I think I will let you watch how I take over your kingdom and make it all better, all new. Yes, I think I will do that."

And with a snap of her fingers, she vanished.

* * *

_The painter_

The starry, dark sky was illuminated by thousands of lights, flames dancing over the firmament for the blink of an eye, before they were swallowed by the darkness.

The unknowing people starred at in in awe, for they believed it was just a beautiful natural spectacle, a shower of falling stars. They pointed their fingers into the night, made wishes, took pictures and videos.

The news channels would surely report about it tomorrow and scientists would try to unravel the mystery, at least for a while, before they would return their concentration on something more important than dying stars.

The painter, however, stood motionless on the veranda and saw nothing but the violent contrast: the black night, the silver flames, the grey clouds.

The colors were exactly the same as on the painting in the basement of the house; the whole scenery was completely alike, as in so many paintings before.

The painter had drawn deaths and wrongs, sinners and believers, angels and demons, hunters and prophets, destruction and resurrection, but in all the years, had never actually seen one of the paintings come to life.

For all those years, the paintings had been a safe position, like the seat in the cinema. You just watched people die and love and live hundreds and hundreds of times and then, walked away, because it was not real to you, because you could do nothing to change the outcome of their stories.

And though the paintings were real, future drawn onto the canvas, the painter had never interfered. All the emotions, the shivers, the anger, the restlessness were simply ignored due to the Lord's commandment: draw, don't act. See, don't move.

The painter turned around and walked back in slowly, eyes resting for a while on the newest painting, finished only an hour ago, the paint not even dry. It captured the aftermath, the closed gates of heaven and the scribe wandering through paradise, just as alone and abandoned as he had been on earth.

He had set the world off balance, he had eliminated the already damaged counterpoise to hell, he had sent thousands of angels to an exile they never truly understood.

The world as the painter had known it had ceased to exist. And for the first time, the painter felt fear.

_A/N: Like it? Hate it? Please leave a review._


	2. Dean Winchester, the counselor

_Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, of course._

_Author's Note: Thanks for the review and the follows. Your support really means a lot to me._

"_When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching - they are your family."_

_(Jim Butcher)_

**Chapter Two: Dean Winchester, the counselor **

As the heavy entrance doors to the bunker opened, Kevin practically jumped down the stairs.

"Dean! Sam!" he shouted. "The machines… I didn't do anything! They just came alive! And there are red dots all over the world and…" His eyes fell on Sam, who was leaning on his brother, his eyes red, his face sweaty and he stopped immediately.

"Oh my god, what happened?"

"It's complicated", Dean said shortly.

"Yeah, I figured that out a while ago", Kevin replied and glared at him.

"Why don't you quit your bitching and lend me a hand, hm? He needs to rest", Dean snapped.

Kevin shot him a glance, but nevertheless, helped him bring Sam to his room. The younger Winchester immediately closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, or maybe lost consciousness – Kevin was not entirely sure. Anyway, after a few minutes, Dean left the room and he followed him quickly, because he knew Dean had the habit of sneaking out before he could get any explanation.

"What's all this about?" Kevin asked. "Did you close the gates of hell?"

"No", Dean replied.

"No? NO? Damn it, I worked my ass off to decrypt the tablet and you wanna tell me you didn't finish it?"

"Shut up!" Dean shouted. "Sam would have died if we had closed the gates!" He eyed him closely and stepped forward. "But I bet you already know that, hm? It was probably written down there, an author's note, but you just didn't tell us."

"What?" Kevin asked irritated. "Nothing like this was mentioned on the tablet. And why wouldn't I have told you if there had been?"

"Don't lie to me, Kevin! I know you wished this would be over, I know you would have done everything just to go back to your normal life! So you decided it was worth sending Sam on a suicide mission, though we have saved your and your mom's ass so many times…"

"I know what you did for me, okay! And I know what you have done to me, too! And yes, I want to go back to my normal life, but I know just as well as you do that this is just an illusion! Even if the gates of hell were closed, I could never go back! After all the things I've seen, after everything Crowley did to me, do you really think I would be able to just shake it off, act like it never happened? Do you really think I am stupid enough to believe that?"

Dean started at him, then, the anger in his expression slowly vanished. "So, there was nothing on the tablet?" he asked, his voice calm again.

"No!" Kevin insisted.

The hunter nodded his head. "You said something about the machines?"

"Yeah. Follow me."

Kevin led him upstairs and pointed at the table with the map. "See? Thousands of them."

Dean approached the table and leant over it, raising an eyebrow. "Wow. Now, that's really a lot of them."

"What does this stand for?" Kevin asked. "Demons?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah. Angels."

"Angels?"

"Metatron closed the gates of heaven and threw all angels out."

Kevin stared at him wide-eyed. "What do you mean, he threw them out? Threw them out to where?"

"Here", Dean replied. "Earth. Thousands of angels, wandering over the surface, without their wings, without their power. Human."

"But…" Kevin started, unable to continue.

"Yeah. Sounds bad, doesn't it?"

"What about Crowley? What happened to him?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "We left him in the church, tied to a chair. Guess one of his followers freed him by now."

"So, this was all in vain?" the prophet asked lowly.

"In vain? No. It was a fucking disaster", Dean said and looked at him. "Talking about it, you're pretty good with this computer stuff, are you?"

"Yes, why?" Kevin asked.

"Because I need you to track down a phone number."

* * *

Dean parked the impala on the shoulder and looked at the map Kevin had printed for him. He looked up again, through the windscreen into the dark woods and sighed. _Damn you, Cas, _he thought. _Why do I always have to pick you up?_

He got out of the car and opened the trunk, taking the shotgun and the torch, before he finally stepped into the woods. The woodlot crushed under his feet as he slowly walked forwards, his mind remembering the wendigo and all the other evil creatures he had hunted down in similar areas.

"Cas, if you're not already dead, I'm gonna kill you", he muttered.

Of course, he could be dead. It was a very likely possibility; given Metatron was probably the last person… creature… whatever... Cas had met.

And damn it, Metatron surely had nothing left for angels.

Dean forced his way through the thicket, his eyes travelling down to the map and back up to the darkness. He should be close now, though, it was actually hard to tell. God, he really hated nature.

He grabbed the cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number. He knew Cas wouldn't pick up, but if the phone still worked, the signal would at least give him a hint where to go.

He listened closely… And there it was. Low, almost inaudible, but there.

The hunter moved faster, knowing the call would shut down any minute. And then, all of a sudden, he could see him, sitting on a small clearance.

He shut down his phone and stopped. Cas hadn't noticed him yet and Dean felt the urge to just turn around and leave. How many times had it been like this? How many times had he left everything behind to save the angel, though it should have been the other way around?

And still, there was the handprint on his upper arm, a constant reminder of his worst days and part of the reason he would never be able to give up on Cas.

He took a deep breath and walked down to the man.

"So there you are", he said as he had almost reached him. "Took me quite some time to find you, you know."

"Dean", Castiel replied without looking at him. "You shouldn't have come."

"Yeah", Dean said and shook his head. "I really shouldn't have. And you know why? Because Sam is suffering like hell from those fucking trials."

"Then why are you here?"

"Good question", Dean admitted. "Well, I guess because you didn't answer your stupid phone."

Finally, Cas turned his head to face him. "Why would you care? I let you down again. I let everyone down. My brothers, my sisters…"

"So, it was really Metatron, was it?"

"He planned it, yes. But I gave him the possibility. It is my fault. If I had listened to you…"

"Which you never do", Dean interrupted him.

Castiel looked at him and fell silent.

"Well, anyway, you won't change a thing by just sitting here. Come on, we gotta find a way to save Sam", he said and walked back, realizing after a few steps Cas didn't follow him. "Hey! Move your ass!"

The man shook his head. "I am not coming with you."

"Oh really? Why? Another one of your great master plans to fix this?" Dean asked ironically.

"No. No more plans. I will just… sit here. And wait", Castiel replied.

Dean stared at him, then approached him. "Okay, I hate to break that to you, but you are human now. Humans can't just sit anywhere and wait. Humans need food. Sleep. If you just sit here, you'll probably die."

The other man looked at him. "That's my plan."

"Seriously?" Dean asked. "You want to sit here until you starve?"

"Yes", Castiel replied.

"I don't have time for this bullshit. Come on now, I don't want to knock you out and carry you", he said.

"Dean, I am serious."

"Yeah, and so am I."

"Dean, think about everything I have done to you. To Sam. To heaven. I don't deserve your care. I don't deserve… life."

"Really?" Dean asked. "What about me?"

"About you?"

"Yeah. Think about everything I did. Torturing souls. Breaking the first seal…"

"That's different", Castiel said. "You never meant to do it."

"But you did?" Dean asked.

Silence fell between them, before Castiel shook his head. "All I wanted was to fix heaven. Cure it."

"And we can still do that. After we have helped Sam. Damn, Cas, we gotta stand together. Now more than ever."

"Dean, I can't. Please, just leave me alone…"

"And die like a coward?"

"What?" Castiel asked irritated.

"You heard me. You think it would be decent of you to die, but you know what? It's not. It's just cowardly. You think you'll just leave Sam and me here to clean up the mess, you think you'll just leave your brothers and sisters down here on earth, but you know what, I won't have it. You, Sam, me and Kevin, we are all involved in this. You said it yourself, there is no easy way out. Now, Metatron closed the gates of heaven and the gates of hell are still open, but we got the angel tablet and we got us. And none of us will simply abandon the family. Not under my watch", Dean said and held out his hand.

Castiel stared at him and blinked. "You are insane", he said quietly.

"Tell me something I don't already know", Dean replied.

The former angel shook his head and sighed, then finally, grabbed his hand.

_A/N: In my eyes, the most difficult thing about writing a fanfic is to keep the characters "in-character". Well, I hope I manage. If you can spare two or three seconds of your time, please leave a review and tell me what you think. _


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